


In the end, it's always about the ring

by sunshineandeyebrows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort For Real, I almost puked writing it, M/M, Major Character Injury, almost too fluffy, basically two idiots who can't not argue, fluffy by the end, nothing too graphic though, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:22:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineandeyebrows/pseuds/sunshineandeyebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was biting down hard, right after the words left the man's lips. And when he let him go, screaming and cursing, Stiles turned around swiftly, aiming for the guy's crotch. Then a quick punch with his joined hands to the man's nape and it was over.</p>
<p>"Imagine how awesome I am at giving head," he said with dark satisfaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the end, it's always about the ring

Stiles woke up to his head pulsing with pain and the world blurry and whirling before his eyes. He groaned and only after a while realized his hands are tied up and that he's lying on cold ground.

"Oh look, guys, seems like our sleeping beauty has woken up," he heard a rough, mocking voice and yeah, that probably meant he got himself into trouble again.

"Finally! Then that means the prince should show up to rescue her from harm and distress," yes, he was most definitely in trouble.

Someone dragged him roughly to his feet and his head spinned. There was something wrong with his hand too, it hurt like a bitch.

When he was able to make out his surroundings, he noticed they're standing in front of the Hale house, as gloomy and disturbing as ever. There was four men with him, one of them gripping him tightly and the other three very near, every one of them holding a massive gun, other multiple weapons visible on their backs or hanging from their belts.  
Hunters, Stiles thought. Probably from further South, judging by their accent, appearance and the color of their skin. Most likely not familiar with the Argents. Stiles cursed inwardly and focused on what they might possibly want.

"Uh, guys?" he rasped, trying to think of some escape plan. "I don't wanna spoil your plans or anything, but the guy who lived here has been gone for a month now, so you probably won't negotiate anything if that's your goal, just saying."

One of the men looked at him, smirking. Stiles didn't like that expression one bit.

"Don't ya worry, princess, he's here. Even if he didn't tell you," the man said and Stiles felt his heart quicken, completely against his will. He knew it couldn't be right, after all. 

"Ain't ya, Derek Hale?!" the man almost shouted.

For a few long seconds there was absolute silence and Stiles almost calmed down. Then, the wrecked door opened slowly and on the porch stepped no one other than Derek Hale himself. Stiles almost choked on his own saliva, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

Derek was just standing there, all leather jacket and muscles and swag, with the ever-present frown. He hasn't changed one bit from the last time Stiles saw him, but then again, it was Derek, it was highly unlikely he would ever change.

"Let him go," he growled, eyes flashing burning blue. 

Stiles was glad he wasn't afraid of that asshole anymore, because right now he looked intimidating as fuck.

"Of course, dear prince!" one of the guys said mockingly. "Right away! Just one little condition though. You're going to come politely with us and that little shit can scram in peace." 

Derek looked at Stiles for the first time then and Stiles didn't like the determination he saw in those eyes. Derek took a step forward, lifting his hands up slowly.

"Derek," Stiles said, warning in his voice.

"Shut up," Derek said and he wasn't looking at him anymore.

"No, Derek, stop," Stiles said, voice tense and solid.

"I told you to shut up, Stiles," Derek almost barked, but it felt more desperate than angry.

All the men moved towards him except for the one that was holding Stiles in place.

"Exactly," the guy said with irritation. "You should shut up!" in the next second Stiles felt four big, rough fingers invade his throat.

Derek flinched and the rest of men stopped to look at them. Stiles would smirk if he didn't currently have four fingers knuckles deep in his mouth. 

"What the hell...?!" the guy holding him mumbled, startled.

Derek was the one that smirked and shook his head with mocking pity.

"That wasn't really smart," he said heavily.

The guy looked at him with surprise.

"He didn't even gag!" he said, confused.

Stiles was biting down hard, right after the words left the man's lips. And when he let him go, screaming and cursing, Stiles turned around swiftly, aiming for the guy's crotch. Then a quick punch with his joined hands to the man's nape and it was over.

"Imagine how awesome I am at giving head," he said with dark satisfaction.

He turned around when sound of a gunshot thundered in his ears, but what he saw was Derek, standing between three men lying unconscious on the ground.

"Derek?" Stiles asked, walking to him. "You okay, dude?"

Derek didn't look at him.

"I'm fine," he said, but his breath hitched and Stiles knew he's lying.

"Yeah, right," he snorted, getting to the man to check his body.

As expected, blood was pouring down from a wound just under Derek's ribs.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," muttered darkly was probably the last thing Derek was able to hear, before slumping to the ground.

***

"So we're back to saving each other's lives, huh," Derek heard right after waking up. 

He opened his eyes to Stilinski's living room and Stiles sitting at the edge of the couch, which Derek was apparently currently occupying. His body was sore, but healed already.

And Stiles kept talking.

"A whole month, Derek, and it takes just a few hunters so that I can see you?" he snorted. "Brilliant! Just fucking brilliant, I should have thought of it! And anyway, what the hell were you thinking, surrendering just like that?! I would have been fine, you know that, you know I can take care of myself. And of course you got shot and lied about it, because it's you, it's just- ugh! You'd better be grateful my dad was home so he could pick us up, I would never get your ass back on my own, you weigh a ton and my wrist's busted," Derek looked down to see Stiles' hand covered in bandages. He felt a tinge of guilt but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure Stiles knows he's awake, but it didn't seem to matter. "You know, after a week I wanted to go look for you. And who stopped me? Scott. Freaking Scott needed to stop me from looking for you, coz you apparently tell things like ‘I'm gonna be out of town for some time’ to Scott of all people, but not me. Do you have any idea how frustrated and pissed I am?! You do realize it's not how actual relationships with people should look like, right?!"

Derek did open his mouth then.

"Stiles, it's not-"

"Of course it is!" Stiles interrupted, turning to him frantically with burning gaze. "I thought we were partners, I thought we trusted each other!"

"Stiles, you're the only person I trust completely-" Derek started, frowning a bit.

"Yeah, right!" Stiles snorted. He had this expression of sideways, hateful smirk that didn't reach his eyes and was really just a cover for when he felt hurt. "Because it was such a problem to call me and tell me what's going on. How was rainforest, Derek, huh? How was Rio?" Derek just blinked at him, more in awe than surprised, because of course Stiles of all people would figure it out. "What, you think it's a big deal for me to contact Cora? She told me not to get involved, coz it's dangerous, otherwise I would have gone after you in an instant!"

Derek grimaced.

"Yeah, I didn't tell you because of that."

"That's stupid, considering you know me and you know I don't like not knowing! Sure, it takes a bit more time, but I'm all the more desperate to find out the truth!" Stiles was now yelling and Derek didn't like that at all, because Stiles rarely yelled and when he did, it meant that the case is serious. 

"I thought I'd come back sooner, but it got all messed up! I didn't wanna leave you!" yeah, and there was also the thing that when Stiles started yelling, Derek would automatically follow. "You would have gone with me if I told you and it was pretty fucking dangerous, but you wouldn't have listened to me!"

"Of course I wouldn't! I thought we established that when the shit gets real, we face it together!" not good, Stiles' voice was now hoarse and unsteady and Derek knew it means he's so angry he will get scarily reckless and say, or rather yell, something they would both regret. The problem was that Derek was also starting to become angry and it was this close for him to stop giving a shit.

"You know I couldn't bare it, if something serious happened to you, but you never fucking listen and yet it takes a few words from my sister so you stay put?! And you call that trust?!"

Stiles looked like he's just been slapped and Derek wasn't entirely sure why, but it momentarily made him sick with guilt.

"Well, look at that, seems that no matter if I'm with you, I still get kidnapped by hunters just because of you," Stiles said almost in a normal volume now, except his voice was on the verge of breaking and Derek fucking hated that, but he felt it's too late and his anger was too big to stop the words from leaving his mouth.

"Well, then maybe I should leave, so that you can peacefully live your life away from me," he knew it's wrong the moment he said it and he wanted to erase that sentence from time, but universe didn't work that way. 

Stiles' face kind of fell then, broke like only something delicate and precious can break. He covered it up quickly though, masking it with indifference. His eyes stopped shining, as if his very damn soul left him, when he said with completely lifeless voice, "Maybe you should."

***

The first week Stiles spent watching crappy movies, trying to help solve his dad's cases and jerking off to gay porn. Which was pretty much the same he has been doing all month, except now it was maybe a bit more furious. 

Scott asked him about it only once, at the end of the week, when they were sitting in Stiles' bedroom watching a terrible horror movie from the 40', because Scott was the best bro ever and knew that nothing can improve Stiles' mood better than bitching about shitty special effects in old films, just to switch to The Amazing Spider-Man right after.

"Dude, are you like that because Derek's back?" Scott asked cautiously. Stiles didn't have to look at him to know he has his concerned eyebrows in full mode.

He stared at Gwen Stacy for a while, sighing eventually. It was no point hiding anything now. Not from Scott at least.

"How do you know he's back?" he asked gloomily.

"He called me and Isaac last week to take care of some hunters. I think he didn't want to contact Chris on his own. When did you see him?"

Stiles kind of stopped for a while then, thinking back. Then he turned to Scott, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his head.

"Um, I might have forgotten to tell you? Kind of?" he said quietly, not sure if he wants Scott to hear the next part.

"About what?" yeah, the concerned eyebrows were back, along with the serious alpha tone.

"The hunters you had to take care of may have sorta uh, kidnapped me?"

"What?!" Scott shouted and he was close, sniffing him out and checking his body before Stiles could even blink, which was ridiculous, because a week has already passed and all.

But Scott had problems with acting reasonable most of the time, so Stiles simply let him. And then he remembered something.

"Wait! Then how do you think I injured my hand? Dude, I couldn't play Call Of Duty all week, don't tell me you haven't noticed!"

Scott looked a bit bashful at that. 

"I thought that you, you know, kinda let it happen? It's not that weird considering your coordination and all..." he was staring at Stiles with his earnest puppy eyes again, but Stiles resolutely told himself that he's not going to let it slide this time. He was enough of a pushover as it was.

"What, you thought I did it myself?! Just because my coordination brain to limbs suck, or brain to mouth for that matter, but it's not the point, you should know me enough to suspect something might have happened, my stupid luck is too great for something like self-damage!"

Scott's eyes changed a bit more sad now, but they were still on. And Stiles fucking knew they're like his kryptonite and eventually he's going to fall, no matter what he tells himself beforehand. He sighed heavily.

"It's fine, man, don't worry about it."

Serious alpha face returned.

"Wait, you mean those hunters did it to you?!" he asked as if the realization only just dawned on him. It probably did.

"Yeah, they wanted to get to Derek trough me or somethin’," Stiles said, waving it off. He knew Scott's going to smell his bitterness though. "Did you see him after the thing with hunters?" he asked, just to say something really. He came back to watching Andrew Garfield flying on the screen in his latex.

"No," Scott shook his head. "Just that one time. Why?"

"Good," Stiles mumbled, then clearer and somehow more empty, "He said he'll leave."

Scott blinked at him.

"What?"

"We kind of... had a fight," Stiles' throat was suddenly too small to manage talking loudly, so he was whispering. "He said that maybe he should leave Beacon Hills. I told him that maybe he really should. That's all." 

Scott was still looking at him, probably in shock, but he focused on the screen. Until his window rattled and then opened. First, curls showed up, then big blue eyes and the rest of Isaac followed.

"Guys," he started, but his timing sucked considering Stiles' shitty mood.

"Oh my god, are you all just going to jump in through the window whenever you want now, I do have doors, you know!" he whined, turning his gaze from Gwen's father dying on the roof of that damn tower to Isaac.

Isaac ignored him. He seemed agitated and unfocused. Scott straightened.

"What happened?" the serious alpha tone again.

"It's bad," Isaac said and ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier, which absolutely didn't mean it looked worse. On the contrary, Stiles would say, it looked even sexier now. Stiles grumbled under his breath. Damn Isaac and his angel eyes and sharp cheekbones and his perfect hair, which Stiles seemed to never be able to have, and his scarf. Because it was barely a weather for jacket and of course Isaac had to wear a scarf. "Remember how we were at the loft last night and talked to Derek about the hunters thing?" Isaac asked nervously and Stiles' attention snapped immediately to Scott and he stared at him for a while, half pissed, half impressed.

"I thought you not so much don't as can't lie," he barked and Scott's eyes were at it again, being all earnest and guilty.

"Whatever, listen!" Isaac was apparently getting impatient with all this. "I was there now, ‘coz Derek wasn't exactly in a good shape yesterday, so I wanted to check up on him," at that Stiles' heart skipped painfully and Scott's hand automatically found his shoulder to give him support. Scott was literally the best bro to ever bro with. "And the loft was all ruined, like a tornado happened there or something!"

"Or a fight," Scott said, but Stiles barely even heard him over the blood pounding in his ears.

Busted loft, panicked Isaac, no trace of Derek around, the conclusion was pretty obvious. 

Stiles spent his first week watching crappy movies, trying to help solve his dad's cases and jerking off to gay porn, and it seemed that a second week simply wasn't happening.

"We have to find Derek," Stiles said blankly, standing up. 

Scott was by his side in a millisecond. His hand never left Stiles' shoulder.

***

At first it was just some vague thought that it's not exactly how it's supposed to be. Derek wasn't sure why. He just knew that the smell wasn't right. He could feel moist, copper, something like burnt meat and the salt of sweat. And Stiles. Which was the weirdest of them all, because a) Derek was kind of familiar with the other smells, having smelled them definitely more than once, it was his life after all, and b) he hasn't smelled Stiles' scent in approximately a week (he wasn't sure, because without Stiles time didn't really matter anymore. Nothing really did), so he couldn't imagine why he would get to be so lucky and smell it again.

But then came the hearing and that was definitely Stiles' heart he heard. He wouldn't mistake it no matter what. He also heard a voice. And that belonged to Stiles too. Conclusion - Derek was probably dead and in heaven. Which was kind of weird, because he never thought he's going to be let in. But whatever. But then came pain. It hit him so hard he winced and immediately felt warm hands on his chest.

"Shhh, it's fine, you're okay. I'm going to get you outta here now, hear me, big guy?" there was a voice in his ear and it was so gentle and beautiful, he thought the pain's worth it.   
He tried to open his eyes and at first he saw nothing but darkness. But then his eyes got used to it a bit. And then he remembered. Right, the hunters, there was more of them and the deal they made with Chris was all just a big fat lie and they got to him and put him in a cellar. Also, the electroshocks and questions about the ring he took from Cora to keep her safe, because that's what they were looking for. His mother's ring.

Derek jerked his eyes completely open, flinching bodily. He must have let out some kind of pathetic sound, because there were big hands soothing his arms and that sweet voice in his head.

"Shh, I've got you, puppy, don't move for now, okay? I'm gonna take those chains off now, please don't fall down, just hold onto me, got it, dude? It would be probably impossible to pick your perfect, furry ass up from the ground."

Derek felt like he's dragging parts of his body up just by the sheer strength of his brain, like pulling on strings. He lifted his head up slightly to see Stiles biting his lip and frowning, while he was trying to unlock the chains in focus.

"Stiles," he rasped, with a feeling his throat has metal fangs of a chainsaw down it. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles looked at him with a frown and that shine in his eyes when he's getting pissed about something, but can't or doesn't want to say anything about it.

"I'm taking your ass back home," he said simply.

"How did you- it's dangerous," Derek managed, feeling one of his hands going loose. He didn't have any power over it, though, it just slumped there, hanging along his side.

"Shut up, Scott and the rest is here, I'm not stupid enough to come alone to hunters' base," Stiles muttered darkly. 

The other one of Derek's arms was freed and he couldn't help slumping down on Stiles heavily. Stiles stood his ground, catching him with a little "whompf!".

"Sorry," Derek said, feeling a bit better already.

"It's fine, come on," Stiles said and it wasn't as rough as Derek expected. He put Derek's arm on his shoulder, securing him in the waist area. They managed a shaky step forward.

Derek could feel his strength coming back, now that he wasn't restricted with wolfsbane-covered chains.

"Stiles, wait," he said, tensing a bit.

Stiles didn't look at him. Derek wasn't sure with all the scents surrounding him, but Stiles smelled kind of bitter and agitated. 

"What?" he asked, voice kind of small.

"I'm sorry," Derek said, trying to get through that he's serious, that this is important.

"I know," Stiles said evenly. "Come on, move, we have to get out of here."

Derek didn't even twitch.

"No, Stiles, I mean it, I left you for a month without you even knowing what's going on and when I came back, you got taken by the hunters that followed me! You got hurt because of me and then I said all those things-"

"Stop," Stiles interrupted sharply. "I said I know, okay? You didn't mean for any of this to happen and don't you think you're going to avoid a serious conversation, young man" he imitated his father and Derek knew it's not as hopeless as he thought if Stiles was trying to cover it up with jokes. "But first let's just get out of here."

Derek obeyed then, stretching his sore muscles a bit as they went. He felt better and better with every step. He almost believed they're going to escape safely and nothing bad will happen.

Except it did. And Derek really should have known better.

They were rounding the corner when the first shot came. Derek should've heard someone's there, but his senses were dull and still not in their full capacity. He covered Stiles with his own body, wolfing out instantly and charging at the attacker. There was more of them, but then Scott showed up with Kira, Isaac and Malia. Liam was probably here too somewhere. It was all a blur and confusion, but it ended quickly. Derek's body didn't get more damaged than it had already been. He turned around to where Stiles was supposed to be standing. And his heart broke.

He stopped hearing, smelling, seeing anything except that one, slim figure, slumped on the ground instead of standing. He could feel panic starting to burn his lungs as he ran over and crouched on the cold ground.

Stiles' face was sickly pale, his body heavy. On his side, right under his ribs there was a fast growing dark stain. Derek put a trembling hand to it, feeling sick at the overwhelming smell of blood. The first bullet, he thought, something close to self-loathing twisting his gut. The first bullet didn't miss. And Derek didn't notice.

Before he registered what's happening, there was Scott next to him and Isaac pulling him off the floor. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the hospital, staring off into space, Scott pacing in front of him, Kira's hand on his forearm. And then the sheriff showed up, worried sick and in so much distress, he reeked of it. Scott lifted his head, alarmed.

"What the hell happened?!" the sheriff thundered, getting to them with lightning speed.

"Mom said it's gonna be alright!" Scott said quickly. "It didn't hit any of his vital organs, they just have to patch him up!" 

"'It'?" the sheriff's eyes squinted and he frowned, visibly starting to panic.

Scott had the face of an animal pinched in a corner.

"He's been shot," he said cautiously.

John paled so much Derek started to worry if he's not going to collapse.

"Shot?" the sheriff repeated faintly.

In the next second Derek was standing up, gently pushing Kira's hands away.

"It's my fault, sir," he said, dead serious.

The sheriff looked at him like he saw him for the first time.

"How can this be your fault?" he asked, baffled.

Derek almost turned away his gaze, but made himself not to.

"He came to rescue me and I wasn't able to protect him."

John's eyes became soft.

"It's not your fault, son," he said gently. "You were probably injured yourself and besides, Stiles always gets himself in the middle of trouble," he frowned then and Derek knew he's getting the sheriff's look now. "Why you left him for a month and then decided to leave him for good is an entirely different matter, though."

Derek turned away his gaze then.

"Yes. I know," he said bitterly, voice hushed.

John's smell changed to relieved. Derek looked up at him. The sheriff was smiling mischievously. So Stiles inherited that from him, then, good to know.

"It's all good if you want to fix it though," John said cockily.

Derek's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"How did you-"

"I know you a bit now, after all this time, son. You have a dying need to try and fix everything you've messed up, that's all."

***

Stiles woke up feeling kind of numb, but also pretty good. Maybe a little more than good actually, he felt awesome. Like he was floating almost. He slowly opened his heavy eyes to see hospital ceiling. He's been here enough times to know how it looks like. He probably won't ever be able to forget it. He turned his head to one side. There was Scott kind of lying on a chair in something that must have been an extremely uncomfortable position, snoring lightly with his mouth hanging open. If Stiles tried to be active enough to move, he would snap him a picture, because it was really hilarious.

Stiles turned his head in the other direction then and saw Derek, leaning forward and supporting his head on his hands, elbows planted on knees heavily. He looked serious and worried, almost miserable and Stiles suddenly lost all his good humor and even the floating feeling toned down a bit. He remembered the sound of a gunshot thundering in his ears, the piercing pain, and blue fire that was Derek's eyes, right before he threw himself at the hunter who shot him. He didn't remember much else, though.  
He sighed soundlessly.

"You asshole," he breathed fondly and smiled.

Derek's head snapped up with such speed Stiles almost started to worry if he didn't strain something. Derek was searching his face frantically with his gaze and Stiles knew he's holding himself back from scenting him and checking physically if he's okay.

"Stiles," Derek whispered, eyes going soft with relief.

Stiles sighed again, this time a bit louder, and made himself more comfortable on the hospital bed.

"I never wanted you to leave," he said, looking somewhere above Derek's shoulder, because he just couldn't exactly face Derek straight on right now. "I've been going crazy waiting for you this past month. You should know that."

Derek kind of reached out, aiming for his hand, but he withdrew halfway, clenching his jaw. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"God, you're hopeless!" he reached out on his own, looking at Derek expectantly with raised eyebrows. "Here, come on."

Derek first touched his hand delicately, then held it, squeezing lightly. It was good, feeling Derek's heat again, his skin against Stiles' own.

"I never wanted to leave," Derek mumbled, playing with his fingers. "I shouldn't have. It's just... It was Cora, you know? And I was going nuts without you, but I couldn't come back."

"I know," Stiles finally looked at him. "And I know you didn't tell me to keep me out of trouble, but it was, like, this close for me to go after you. I didn't, because Cora told me you won't be able to focus with me around and something might go wrong for you."

Derek looked shocked for a split second and then groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"That's why you listened to her?" he asked and Stiles wasn't entirely sure he knows what Derek means. "I thought- agh! Never mind."

Stiles was now a bit confused and a lot more curious, but knew Derek's stubborn like hell and won't tell anything he doesn't want to. Of course, Stiles had his methods of persuasion, but his body wasn't exactly up to use them now.

"Okay, tell me," he said instead and Derek sent him a questioning look. "Oh, come on, Cora has been there for almost a year and nothing happened until now, there must be something more to all of this!"

Derek looked at him with his 'I should've known you're gonna figure it out, but I'm grudgingly impressed anyway' eyebrows. Stiles was half pleased, half offended. Of course he would figure it out, he was the best when it came to patterns and connections other people couldn't see.

Derek sighed and reached behind the collar of his shirt to pull out a chain with a simple gold ring on it.

"The hunters were looking for this. It has been passed down in our family for ages, to the head, the alpha. It's not just a ring, it's some ancient magic or something. I know that some of my ancestors were using it to bend people's will to accept the bite. It has been a lot generations ago, we don't do it today anymore. But the ring's still powerful and I don't think it can be destroyed. My mother gave it to my father as a sign of loyalty and trust. It was the only thing Cora got out of the fire- What are you doing?"

Stiles was looking around with a hand above his eyes as if to protect them from sunlight and eyebrows drew together with a mocking seriousness.

"Oh, you know, I'm just looking for your Sam," he said.

"What?"

"Oh come on, you wear a ring on a chain that can't be destroyed and enslaves people and a bunch of bad guys want it for themselves! How can you not see the resemblance! You're totally Frodo!"

Derek glared at him for a while and then sighed long-sufferingly.

"Stiles," he groaned.

"Okay, fair enough, you're almost on the Aragorn level," Stiles mercifully agreed.

"Almost?" Derek asked before he could stop himself from getting caught up in this stupidity.

"Yeah, you know, you're gorgeous and your body is like a god's, but Aragorn is basically the sexuality of the world, dude," Stiles said matter-of-factly. "You need to make peace with that-"

"I want you to have it," Derek said suddenly, interrupting him.

Stiles blinked at him and then at the ring he was holding.

"What?"

Derek groaned with frustration.

"The ring. I want you to have it," he repeated. "It's the only thing I can give you, along with the promise that I won't ever leave you again and do everything I can to make you happy-"

"Oh my god, are you proposing to me right now, Derek Hale?" Stiles said incredulously.

Scott almost fell off the chair.

"W-What, who's proposing?"

"Shut up, Scott," Stiles said absently, not looking at him. "Is that what this is, Derek?" he asked, but Derek seemed as surprised as him. "Because you left me without a word for over a month and then said you'll leave me for good, and I've wanted to punch you this whole time, but there wasn't really an opportunity, besides it would be like punching a wall, so thanks but no thanks, and you're the most douchy douche to ever douche, but it absolutely doesn't change the fact that I love you, unfortunately, and maybe I'm stupid for doing this, but fuck yes, Frodo- Or Aragorn, have it your way, if you want it that bad, though I think Derek would be the best, after a-" he didn't finish, because Derek was sealing his mouth with a desperate, hot kiss.

In the next moment Scott literally jumped at them, overflowing with joy, which ended in a lot of cursing, pain, panicked apologies, frustrated growls and intervention of a doctor.  
Ten minutes later Stiles was high on morphine and Derek was sitting next to him, playing idly with his fingers. He had his version of concerned eyebrows on.

"Where did you even get that from?" Stiles mumbled, smiling a bit goofily. "You didn't have the ring when we came to get you."

"I got it out after Argent and I took care of that hunters," Derek said, now kissing his knuckles.

"Whoa, you took care of that? You willingly went to play with Chris?" Stiles smirked. "Wait, that should take a while," he said, frowning a little. "How long was I out?"

Derek was stubbornly looking at his hands.

"Almost four days," he said quietly.

"That long?" Stiles was probably feeling too good right now to care much about that. But something suddenly grabbed his attention. "Knowing you, you probably haven't slept at all this whole time, right?" he asked, gently circling dark bags under Derek's eyes. "Scott too?"

"Yeah," Derek closed his eyes, letting Stiles touch him all he wanted. "That few hours today was the first time he gave up and went to sleep. I kind of made him, actually."

"God, you two idiots," Stiles groaned and made himself move to one side of the bed. "Come on, get in."

Derek was just looking at him for a while. Then sighed quietly, but it was a relieved, contented sigh. He climbed on the bed, watching out not to cause Stiles any more pain. It has been already enough for one day, especially when he was the one being injured and the one making up pretty convincing and ten-minute-long excuses for why Derek's presence is the essential thing on his way to recovery. Scott had been kicked out, obviously.

They settled as comfortable as possible on such a small bed, Derek with his head in the crook of Stiles' shoulder, Stiles running his fingers through his hair.

"Hey," Stiles said, because Derek was starting to drift off. "Have you seen my dad?" it was bugging him from the first moment he woke up, but there was kind of a lot going on.

"Yeah, he was here until some time ago. Melissa sent him home to sleep."

Stiles groaned.

"Sent him?" he repeated disapprovingly. "He won't go home unless you get him there and literally put him in bed and watch over him until he falls asleep! That's always the case when I'm here, at least."

"She did that," Derek murmured sleepily.

"What?"

"Melissa took him home," Derek supplied.

Stiles visibly relaxed.

"That's good," he said gently. "Hey... can I wear it?" he asked suddenly.

Derek looked at him.

"Here," he said, smiling sweetly and sliding the ring on his finger.

Stiles felt suddenly a weird wave of something surging through his body, it was warm and tickling, but powerful. Derek was looking at him fully awake now, with surprise, but also awe, like he saw something amazing.

"What?" Stiles asked, getting over the weird feeling.

"Your eyes glowed," Derek breathed, scanning the ring on his finger thoroughly.

"What?!" Stiles almost shouted with shock.

"They glowed blue," Derek said absently, staring at him.

Stiles was looking at the ring on his pinkie, because it fitted only there.

"What does it mean?" he asked slowly, in a daze.

"I don't know,” Derek said, kissing his fingers again and then his wrist.

"Are you sure they were blue? Like yours?"

"Yeah," Derek's eyes flashed blue fire. "Like mine. Can I see it again?"

"I don't know how I did it," Stiles shook his head and pulled the ring off just to put it back again. Nothing happened. "Sorry, it doesn't work," he said, but Derek wasn't looking at his eyes anymore, now he was staring at his lips.

Which he was kissing softly in the next second.

"It's fine," he murmured into Stiles' neck after a moment. "It doesn't matter. God, I'm so happy you don't hate me," he added with heavy, sleepy voice.

"Derek Hale and happy in one sentence? Must be the end of the world," Stiles teased, kissing Derek's forehead.

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek mumbled softly. "I love you," he said after a while, a bit more audibly.

Stiles smiled, feeling the high of morphine kick in again. He settled against the solid wall of warmth that was Derek, closing his eyes. He heard "Finally!" and "It's about the damn time!" coming from the hallway in Isaac's and Lydia's voice. He smirked, feeling Derek's mouth curl up on his skin.

"Love you too."


End file.
